A Wasted Return, Broken Dreams
by Hope Trinket
Summary: [Pre, During, and Post TWEwY] - She started out as being a pain. He was sick of her trying to comfort him, sick of the way she'd follow him like some lost puppy. It was funny... But after the events of the Game, she became the most important thing of all. Beat/Rhyme platonic.


**Author Note: **I was originally going to put this in Stepping Stones, but decided against it because it grew to a three scene one shot... I'm not in a great mood, so this is actually angst and hurt/comfort. But... it's my tenth fanfic, so... yay? Beat/Rhyme platonic because I can't get enough of it.

* * *

She's doing it again.

Being herself: Caring, kind, generous, concerned... all for _you_.

And what do you do?

You brush it off like dust on your hands.

You push her away again and again, not paying the simplest attention towards her feelings. You kick up your skateboard, one foot kicking the asphalt to gain momentum. The faster, the better - it's basically an inside motto of yours and it definitely applies right now. You can hear her call out for you, but it's with a few more pounds to the ground and now you're alone, rolling down some other road that you don't bother to recall the name of.

People are complete dickwads, you observe, as one person - _some rude kid with large purple headphones - _shoves into you and doesn't even apologise.

On normal days, you'd turn, arms akimbo, give them a trademark 'The hell's your problem?' look, accept the challenge or keep walking - it always depended on what person number two decided to do.

The air is crisp, but no where near calm; it's crowded. You can _taste _the winds of Shibuya, the mixture of Sunshine's fast food down wafting from an open window to the amount of plants grown around Hachiko's statue. Yes, you're near the westside station again today. You seem to go here a lot, nearing closer and closer to the sewers with each passing day. And it's weird because the sewers are your least favourite place in all of Shibuya.

It's dark, musty, but above all else, lonely.

There is a strong aura of loneliness that emanates from the gaping mouth of the sewers. You noticed some workers passing in with a grim look on their face, not all that interested. Hell if you were assigned to walk into a hall that smelled like garbage and waste you'd probably be a bit pissed too. But it's different because when they come out, they're not relieved. In fact, something in their eyes is different. Not possessed because you tell _her_ so you better damn well believe it yourself: Ghosts don't exist. So no invisible force feeding off their negativity, right?

...Right?

You move as far away from people as possible, opting to sit down inside the sewers themselves, sitting against the wall. At this point, the overall stench is the last thing on your mind as you think.

And think...

And _think_.

* * *

She's at the root of all your problems.

But then again, she's the good part too because you're not walking into unknown territory alone. And it's ironic because this is _not _unknown territory - it's Shibuya. The same buildings that stretched to the sky, the same salesman boasting loudly about their current stock... But it _is_. Because nobody sees you, and you see them, _hear them_, read their freaking minds... But what really throws you off are the floating insignias around passerby's heads.

Noise.

Nasty vermins that were to be erased to pass certain missions and proceed to the next level.

And this is where it all goes to hell.

You're rash and determined, looking over your shoulder and giving her a reassuring grin. She nods back hesitantly, but smiles just for his sake. And your heart sinks because she isn't herself. She's doing this out of politeness, not because she knows you. _But in the end, who cares because you're not worth remembering anyway. You're the black sheep among a family of white fluff, you're the book without a cover, you're the squirrel among the chipmunks_.

A flip of the black pin and you're scanning the crowds, seeing in a whole new vision. Two particularly large Noise signals are your target and you pull them in because you need those items in order to get past the wall.

Skateboarding is a hobby to you. It's not a dream because you don't want to be the world's best skater. You don't have an idol so you just do whatever you do. You view skateboarding as an outlet. Everytime the wheels slam into the hard ground (or in this case the face of a Noise animal), dark satisfaction ignites inside you. Because you imagine the person who you're truly angry with beneath the feet of your board. You don't see ground, you see _them_. And hey, maybe it's a bit screwed up, but if it keeps you from actually punching someone out, then it's fine.

You care for your parents - pops too.

They're just grating sometimes. You know, when you calm down, that they aren't out to get you. But at the same time you want them to lay off. You want to tell them this and express how unfair it is when you get the rear end of the stick and she gets placed on a pedestal. You want to express how angry you are, but in your near-blind rage, you're still somewhat conscious. And that alone prevents you from striking out and hurting someone you love.

Board in hand to the ground, you're perfectly fine with taking out fury on inanimate objects and actual threats.

You're on a roll with this, you got this in the bag, when pain lances through your head. It throws you off guard and you stumble and fall, board slipping out from under your feet. You hastily push yourself up, gravel digging its teeth into your palms, and your knees scrape against the ground, tearing flesh. You feel pain in your new wounds, but more than that, you feel it someplace else - your _back _- and hey, you landed on your _front_.

Partners could feel each other's pain. It would start with the mental link, a bit of a precaution, and then it would travel to wherever your buddy was injured. It was a weird concept and questioning it is beyond your skill level, but this is the least of your concerns.

Because if you're hurting somewhere you weren't struck, it means that _she _is hurt. That _she's _at risk.

And though you know it lowers your Sync Rate every time you do this, you flee. You disappear in a quick _schzip _of green light and you're back in the Scramble. You turn to her and you see she's on her knees, arm bent at an awkward angle to rub at the now-present wound on her back (most likely a bruise since there is no red stain). You rush over without a second thought and ask her hurriedly, "Are you okay?" And before she can answer, your turning her around, lifting up the back of her shirt to check-

"B-Beat? W-What are you doing?"

The tone sets you off because she sounds... _scared_. Timid. Did she honestly think you would...? Oh come _on_, you would never do something like that.

But this isn't her. She hit her head hard and lost her memories...

...That's what you want to believe.

You swallow past the thickness in your throat and let go as if the fabric has burnt you. You are burned, but not physically. The hesitance in her voice replays itself in your head again and again, and you mutter an apology before standing. You don't bother to hold out your hand for her because she's already on her feet, grasping her upper arm uncomfortably and rocking to and fro.

At home, this would not have been a problem. If she fell, he wouldn't have to worry about her questioning his actions. She trusts him, that one trusts him. The one here, with him in the game, views him as a stranger. She's only trusting him because she has to and this is only your second day. And after a particularly nasty run-in with some headphone-wearing jackass and his pink-haired girlfriend, you're ready to throw in the towel.

"Sorry," you repeat, still avoiding her gaze. "Les' jus' clear the mission, aight?"

And you're off again, and she's right at your feet.

* * *

You're home.

She's home.

Everything is back to normal.

You have friends now, friends who don't reprimand you or bully your sister... Because anyone who messes with your sister meets your fist. But that's all a thing of the past because now you're in a new present, a new day. You're happy for a change, and your parents haven't bothered you bout marks for about a month now, and maybe that's because you're doing better in school and pulling the average rather failing grade. Maybe it's because you actually participate in family activities rather holing yourself up in your room to avoid them. Maybe it's because your parents missed you.

You're happy, and that's all that matters.

...There's only one thing that keeps it from being perfect.

She cheers you on, has been cheering you on before the Game...

But there's something odd...

She smiles a lot, you notice, and the sibling love is back... But she still seems so lost and confused at times and he doesn't miss the way she looks longingly at Shiki when the older girl talks about her latest idea with Eri. Shiki is very animated when she talks around Neku - you and her as well. She's happy, she looks _completely _different from the one Beat saw in the game - but she has _dreams_.

You were confused when the Iron Maiden hinted that you were not her entry fee. Or rather, her memories of you.

In fact, it _stung_.

You aren't worth anything to _anyone _- not even your sister.

At that time, you paused and tried to think it through, let it process through you mind. But at that time, you had a world to save (quite literally) so you filed it away for later analysis and sped off with Neku right behind you.

Now that you give it more thought and time, you realise she's _lost_. She doesn't have a goal anymore.

Her dance classes are paid for, but it lacks the heart and soul she used to put in. She pulls off the movements gracefully, but when she ends, she's empty and confused. She looks _sad_. Behind that smile and happy demeanor is a lost girl.

Guilt is strong and it hits you like a wave when you're out on the back porch, staring up at Shibuya's starless skies. The night air is cool and it's at the temperature you like - not too humid, and not too cold. A good breeze. It's peaceful and it's been so long since you were able to enjoy a decent night (the past month dealt with cramming for catching up in school, staying at Neku's for study dates _not that way) _so when the door slides open, you exclaim.

"Beat? Why are you up so late?"

You exhale the surprise with a sigh and turn away, shrugging. "Jus' couldn't sleep." you respond simply, forearms resting on the banister. She comes up besides you and mimics your actions.

"Didn't get anything to eat? That usually helps."

Your shoulders lift up and drop, another shrug. "Not tha' hungry."

She giggles, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "Since when have _you _not been hungry before?" Her smile drops when she sees you're not laughing. You're still staring off into space because you're too damn worried about _her_. "Hey... I didn't mean it like that. Beat.. Are you sure you're okay?" She's worried and so you drop your gaze and avert to her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. No problem, yo." You force a grin, but it's an awkward one.

She folds her arms, frowning slightly. "No. You're not."

And she has you in her grasp. She knows you like the back of her hand and it's quite scary considering how young she is... But then again, she's your sister, and your sister knows a lot for a 12 year old.

"So I gotta few things on my mind. Nothin' to worry about."

"_Beat_."

"What? I'm bein' honest!"

"Stop lying to me."

You freeze at how demanding she sounds. In fact, the whole sentence is like a blow to the face, and it's almost as if she _slapped _you. She _never _uses that tone with you never mind anybody else. In fact, it's probably the first time you've heard it outside the time she 'complained' at the young age of four. "I ain't lyin'..." Your voice comes out quiet, barely above a whisper.

She drops the gesture, eyes softening. "I don't know why you won't trust me... I thought the Game changed that."

"It did. I still trust you, but this ain't anything you need to be worryin' 'bout." You cut in hastily, regaining some of your stolen energy. "Jus' let me handle things-"

"Why?" She butts in sharply, fist clenched at her side while the other grasps over her chest. "Because that worked out _so well _last time?" _Ouch_. "Because it only helped you distance yourself away from mom and dad... away from _me_? Because it almost wiped us off this entire planet? Because your... random planning and... and... _rash behaviour _and rushing into these 'adventures' and almost _getting yourself killed _is going to fix everything between us as a family? Because it'll help me remember what my purpose is? My _dream_?"

Each rhetorical question is like a punch to the gut, and by the time she fires the last one, she's backed you into a corner (in reality, it's at the foot of the two stairs of the porch). You wince at the emphasis on 'my dream' because you know something she doesn't. And you can't tell her because what good will it do anyway? In fact, it might just discourage her. You don't know.

A sigh, but it's shaky. "I know I shouldn't think about myself... I don't mean it like this... It's just... I don't... Beat, why am I even _alive_? Why did the Composer bring me back? Who _is he_?"

You don't answer at first and when she gestures vaguely, you shake your head, lips parting, _shaking_. "I... I don't know..." And you don't. Your memories of the fight after Kitaniji... You don't remember. There's a gap, and now that Rhyme has brought attention to it, it's... _bothersome_. "I can't remember _shit..._" You mount back on the porch again, retaking your previous spot before she practically forced you out. "Your dreams... That was your purpose and what you desired most, right?" The lump in your throat is back and it hurts to talk, but you do it anyway.

"I don't know what you dreamed of... And 's my own damn fault... I was too busy worryin' 'bout myself, gettin' pissed with pops and mom..." You shake your head, eyes clenched shut in frustration. "I can't remember where you started, yo... And the 'rents didn't know which goal you had set out. There were tons a' things you did... Dance, music, art..." You meet her gaze again, holding it in place. "An' I'm sorry. It's all I can say. I can't get your dreams back... I can't do anything."

A harsh laugh tears through your throat and your looking away again. "I don't even have my own dreams set out. So what good of a brother am I if I can barely help my sis? You askin' the wrong person, tha's for sure... Go ask Shiki or someone."

It's deathly quiet... and you feel as if you might've upset her again.

But you don't.

Instead, she takes your hand, but she's not looking at you directly either. You expect her to apologise because she normally does that, but instead she says something else:

"Sometimes we forget old memories and can't recall anything. Not even a name can bring it back. I used to think of it as an omen and maybe I still do... But now that I think more about it, my past was dark. I love mom and dad, and I love you too, Beat... I guess I wasn't truly happy unless I was doing something I enjoyed - my dreams. I was tired of the fights and yelling.

"Maybe we forget memories for a reason. Maybe they aren't good, and the whole point is to make some new ones, better ones. Sometimes there are bad times and we remember them, but that's because in those times, there was someone we deeply cared for. Maybe we don't talk to them now and maybe we're arch enemies... But if we still remember, then it means they were important and they were the first step to changing."

Her blue eyes finally meet yours, and they're not nearly as sad as they were before. "Maybe I just have to make new dreams..."

You're quiet, unable to respond.

"...You'll... be there to help me make those dreams, won't you, Beat?"

And you pull her into a tight embrace, clutching her close to your body as if she anchors you to the world. You bury your face in the small space between her shoulder and neck and let the tears fall, just let everything out. When you feel her hands on your back, a returning hug, you sob out the awaited answer:

"Yes. Yes, I will, Rhyme."  
_(And I'm sorry.)_


End file.
